Don't Turn the Lights Off
by Veni0Vidi0Vici
Summary: SPOILERS FOR 6.21. Lisa feels like there are things out there. She might not know what's out there, but she knows enough to be afraid of the dark.


The sun had set, taking its rays of gold with it and leaving the small town with only fast-fading light. Soon owls would start their hooting and coyotes their howling. Lights would be turned off, children kissed and tucked in, and bed time stories told. Soon the world of day would be asleep and the world of night at work.

In a little white house in that little town, a woman was locking her windows as dinner cooked. She went from window to window, repeating her ritual: she pushed it shut, turned the latch the other direction, pulled on the top to see if would open, and closed the curtains. She didn't stop till each window in the house was properly sealed. Then to the doors: lock the knob, lock the deadbolt, slide the chain in place.

The only locked residence in the entire town was that of Lisa Braeden. What initially attracted her to the town after her accident was how safe and small it was. She wanted her and her son to live somewhere safe; in a place where no one locked their doors because everyone knew that nothing bad would happen if they didn't. She still locked her doors.

She finished sliding the chain on the last door in her house. The feeling of safety that came with locked doors came for Lisa; she felt pleasant now and like her little home was safe. She let out a sigh and turned around.

And saw something—something that hadn't been there before. No footsteps, no breathing, no sounds had warned the woman of its presence. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart skipped a beat.

"Boo," said the brown-haired boy who hadn't been there just moments before. A mischievous grin split his face.

'Calm down,' Lisa told herself. 'He wouldn't do this if I didn't give him a reaction. He's just trying to play around.'

"Do you want to be sent to bed early, Ben?" she joked with a weak grin on her face.

"Do _you_ want to be sent to bed early,_ Mom_?"

Feeling a little better now that she had a moment to breathe, the woman raised an eyebrow. "Your comebacks are usually a bit wittier than that."

He feigned a glare then smiled again. "I love you, Mom," the child said as he wrapped his arms around his mother.

"I love you too," she said as she returned the hug, squeezing her son tightly.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before going to fetch the casserole from the oven, not bothering to flip off the lights on the way there. Ben set the table for two, tossing forks on the plates, using paper towels in place of the napkins he couldn't find, and forgetting butter knives altogether. Drinks were poured: wine for Lisa, soda-pop for Ben.

They ate their meal as a mother and son might. She asked him about school, requested that he try harder to get decent grades, and grilled him on questions for an upcoming test. He smiled through mouthfuls as he listened to her work stories that he didn't really find all that funny and begged her for a sip of her wine every once in a while.

When the plates were clear of food, Lisa started cleaning up after the meal, another ritual of hers. Ben retired to the living room, spreading his homework over the coffee table and putting an old black and white horror movie into the VCR player to watch as he worked.

Once she had completed her third ritual of the evening, she found her son in the living room: homework forgotten, eyes fixated on the television screen, and the lights off. She bit her bottom lip as she flipped them back on.

"Why can't I have them off?" Ben raised his voice in protest.

"You can't do your homework with the lights off, honey."

She sat next to him on the couch, ignoring the movie as best as she could and checked over his math assignment.

The howls and the screams gave her chills. She resisted the temptation to hit the power button on the remote. She wanted silence as she punched the numbers into the calculator; she didn't want to hear the shrieks of some beautiful actress from an era long past. She kept her head down and her mind in the work, telling herself over and over 'It's just a movie.'

By the time the assignments were finished, it was past ten o' clock. Ten o' clock was the time that Lisa had declared bed time for many years. They took their showers, brushed their teeth, and ended up in their separate bedrooms, each lying on their own bed.

An hour later neither was sleeping. Ben wasn't sleeping because he was playing a handheld game under the covers; Lisa wasn't sleeping because the lights were off.

She couldn't sleep when the lights were out. The shadows from what faint moonlight the curtains let in made creatures on her ceiling and wraiths on her walls. She could almost see them move out of the corner of her eye.

It was a silly, childish fear, but what if there really were monsters in her room? If there were things like the monsters in the shadows inside, the things outside could be much worse.

There could be monsters with sharp teeth and razor claws outside her window, breathing in the scent of flesh and fear. The neighbors could be getting eaten by creatures as she lay paralyzed on her bed. There could be something in her son's room, creeping toward his innocent, sleeping body.

Shadows and darkness were prefect for the things that wanted to come out and get you.

'It's childish. I know it's childish and stupid. Kids are afraid of the dark and the monsters in the closet. But does anything ever come of those fears? No. Because they're silly and childish. The dark can't hurt me; it's never hurt anyone. It's stupid to be afraid of it.'

She squeezed her eyes shut and sat up—almost. She was too afraid to sit up. 'C'mon, Lisa, move,' some part of her screamed at another part. But she didn't move.

She opened her eyes and saw that there were still flickering shapes all around her. What if one of these was a real monster, not just a shadowy trick?

Lisa needed light. Slowly, her hand stretched toward her lamp. She had to be slow in case there was something in her room and it saw her movements. Sudden movements attracted attention and slow ones didn't. The last thing Lisa wanted right now was for anyone—or any_thing_—else in her bedroom to pay attention to her.

As her fingertips made their slow journey to the lamp, the second thing that liked to haunt her at night flew to her head. As much as she hated thinking about it, it was a distraction from her bedroom and the shapes in the dark that she could almost see move.

She thought about the black spaces in her memory. Were they a result of the car crash? There was so much she couldn't remember: a few of her son's birthday parties, a year of her life, Ben's father. . . .

What if the blackness in her past was like the blackness in her bedroom? What if they were full of demons and monsters? If she could just throw light on her mind, at least she would know of the threats there; at least she would know to fight.

But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't remember.

At least she could throw light on in her bedroom.

Lights were safer. They illuminated the world and if there was a monster, you could see it. And if you could see the monster, you could fight it and you had a chance.

Finally her hand made contact with the lamp. Finally she turned the lamp on and her room was dusted in the golden light. Finally she could see that there were no monsters in her bedroom after all. Finally she could breathe a sigh.

Finally Lisa could sleep.


End file.
